


Picking up the Pieces

by silver_sun



Category: Torchwood
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_sun/pseuds/silver_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's the small things that remind us of what we've lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking up the Pieces

_**Fic: Picking up the Pieces**_  
 **Title:** Picking up the Pieces  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Jack/Ianto, Owen. Gwen and Tosh mentioned.  
 **Rating:** R – for a semi-graphic sex scene.  
 **Summary:** Sometimes it's the small things that remind us of what we've lost.  
 **Notes:** Written ages ago, back in 07, after a request that I expand a drabble, Like China, <http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/6274.html#cutid1> into a fic. This is the result.

It’s early when Ianto arrives at the tourist office, the sun barely risen across the bay. Standing outside the door he watches as it brightens the morning sky and listens to calls of the sea birds and the sounds of the city waking up around him.

He wonders if he should find it beautiful, if maybe there is something wrong with him that he can find no joy or happiness in it. But, he tells himself, as he lets himself into the dim office, that’s as it should be. It would be wrong, maybe even perverse for him to be finding any happiness or beauty in anything right now. Especially today, a day when he and Lisa should have been together on holiday, celebrating her birthday just like they had planned all those months ago, back when the world had seemed a much brighter place.

Locking the tourist office door behind him Ianto tidies the already spotless desk, rearranging leaflets that aren’t out of place and sweeps the floor, before heading down into the Hub.

Even here it’s still relatively tidy, the Rift having been quiet for the last few days. Ianto’s not sure whether he’s grateful for this or not. The lack of life threatening situations is welcome, but the boredom, and the near constant struggle to occupy his mind is most definitely not.

However, despite the Rift’s relative passivity there are still jobs to be done. The weevils and the pterodactyl need feeding and SUV refuelling, and when that’s done there are still beans grind for the coffee and twice daily round up cups, mugs, glasses, pizza boxes and general rubbish that seems to accumulate the second his back is turned.

It’s this routine, Ianto knows, however mind numbingly dull it might be, that’s got him thought the weeks since Lisa’s death. Not that Ianto’s sure he can call it that any more, because he’s almost certain now that it wasn’t her, not at the end. Not because of anything that Jack said, not because of anything that any of them had said, but because his Lisa, his kind, beautiful, loving Lisa, would have never done those awful things.

The morning drifts by uneventfully. He serves them coffee, as Jack sorts out jobs for the day.

Gwen and Tosh are to got the local swimming baths and check out reports that there might be an alien peeping tom in the women’s changing rooms. Owen is to autopsy a gelatinous blob that had been washed up on the beach two days before and is, despite being refrigerated, starting to smell.

The meeting in the boardroom is over quickly, the team still not having completely forgiven Jack over what had happened with Jasmine and the fairies a week earlier.  
Jack doesn’t bother to assign him a job, he just smiles at him as he collects the now empty mugs, and then goes back to checking the latest batch of paperwork that UNIT has sent him.

The morning drags on into afternoon with only two lost tourists and the mess that Owen makes of the autopsy room to occupy him. A mess results in the sacrifice of his usual coffee mug. As after looking for it for ten minutes Ianto had discovered it in one of the sinks in the autopsy room, half full with what appears to be a greenish blue slime.

Owen claims that he needed something to take a sample in and it was the nearest thing to hand. Ianto is fairly sure he did it to get a reaction out of him, but refuses to rise to the bait. Owen, in Ianto’s opinion, has always been a complete arse. The fact that despite everything that has happened Owen still treats him exactly the same level of disdain as he always has done, is on some weird level, comforting.

It's a struggle to keep his mind occupied, even his fall back project of sorting through and digitising old paper files from the 50’s and 60’s seems to have lost its appeal. Although that could be due to where they are stored, Ianto decides as heads back up from the basement archive, another box of slightly mouldering papers in hand.

Dropping the box off in the back office, Ianto heads to the coffee machine. He’s been at work nearly nine hours and his so called work mates have spoken about the same number of words to him. Just another normal day then, he thinks with a sigh.

Leaning wearily against the work surface Ianto switching on the percolator and setting out Jack's and Owen's mugs before looking for one to use for himself.

Opening the cupboard, Ianto looks along the line of spare cups and mugs, porcelain reminders of staff long gone. Moving some aside his fingertips brush across the slightly raised cartoon dragons on a brightly painted mug.

Where Lisa had bought it Ianto never found out. It was so unlike anything that Ianto would have bought for himself, it was funny, garish and hadn’t matched with anything in his kitchen, despite this he’d loved it the moment he’d seen it.

Setting it on the tray with Jack and Owen's mugs, Ianto thinks that it’s somehow fitting that he’s found it today. The mug had been one of the few things that had made its way from London to Cardiff intact.

Looking across the Hub Ianto can see Jack bickering amiably with Owen about his propensity for trying to chat up anything female in Cardiff, telling him that if he only broadened his horizons he'd have a far wider choice.

Tosh and Gwen are still out. The swimming baths peeping tom having turned out not to be an alien per se, but a teenager called Lee who had somehow acquired some alien CCTV equipment and had been fitting it women’s changing rooms across Cardiff. The rest of the afternoon, for them at least, would be taken up visiting half a dozen shop's changing rooms and removing the cameras.

By the time the coffee is ready Owen has started throwing balls of paper at Jack, who is picking them up and throwing them back, trying to knock over a tower of playing cards that Owen had built on his desk.

The paper throwing stops while Ianto hands Jack and Owen their drinks; something he does as quickly as possible, not feeling in the mood for the topics that it would likely be about.

There seems little point in keeping the tray just for his own drink and Ianto has just picked his mug when Jack, seeing that Owen is distracted by his coffee, returns the last ball of paper that Owen had thrown.

It misses Owen, carrying on past him to strike the mug Ianto is carrying. Although it’s not heavy it strikes the mug with enough force to cause hot coffee slop over the brim and onto Ianto hands, and he releases it with a gasp.

Ianto stares at it, pieces of broken china and coffee.

“Sorry, I’ll buy you another,” Jack calls out, getting up from his desk, heading over to investigate.

“Don’t. Just don’t.” Ianto walks quickly away before Jack can see his face, before he can ask him why feels like he is in as many pieces as the mug.

“You’ve done it now, you've pissed off the teaboy.” Owen voice is jarring and once out of sight Ianto almost runs up the stairs to the tourist office.

Ianto sits in the back room of the tourist office until it’s time for it to close. Nobody has come to look for him and for once he’s glad that they treat him as part of the furniture rather than a member of the team. He doesn’t think that he could have dealt with Owen’s sarcasm or Jack’s whatever the hell it is, not without saying or doing something that he’d undoubtedly later regret.

He wonders if he should have gone back, picked up the pieces. After all, it did seem to be his job to keep the place from becoming tip. Not that there’s much point, Jack’s probably thrown them away by now, Ianto thinks sadly as he puts on his coat, powers down the computer and sets the alarm.

Tomorrow he knows he’ll come in as usual and it will all have been forgotten, not because they don’t care, but because he’s just beneath their notice, or at least that’s how it feels.

Shaking his head Ianto walks to his car, wondering why he’d ever thought that they might be different from everybody else he’d ever known. He knows that it’s probably not remotely fair, that some of the people he’s known had almost certainly cared about him. But standing in a deserted, rain soaked car park, it’s so very hard to remember.

The drive home is slow, road works and a broken down skip lorry blocking a junction add to the congestion. By the time Ianto parks outside his flat he’s convinced it would have been quicker to walk, even if it would’ve meant getting soaked.

Supper is less than successful, the events of the day and of all the longs months before weighing heavily on Ianto’s mind, and it is only the smell of burnt noodles that snaps him back to the present and he lifts the wok off the stove.

Scraping it out into the bin Ianto looks through the takeaway menus stacked neatly by the phone. The last is for Jubilee pizza and they drop from his hand.

Picking up the menus he shoves then in the bin to join the burnt stir-fry.

He sits in his living room until the clock chimes 1am and tiredness finally overtakes him, then switching off the TV that he had only been vaguely watching, he goes to bed.

* * *

  
Morning comes too soon and it barely feels like any time at all has passed when Ianto lets himself into the tourist office, ready to start another day.

Hanging up his coat Ianto turns to the desk to find the mug, the mug Lisa gave to him placed next to his computer, a note propped against it.

The mug is fixed, not quite like new, the cracks are still visible and there are small chips where the corners of the pieces have been broken. It reminds Ianto of the pottery found in museums. Sad silent ghosts separated from the world by glass, mute reminders of a thousand forgotten domestic tragedies that nobody now remembers or cares about.

There is a note. _If only all things broken were so easily repaired. J._

A sob escapes him and bites his lip trying to regain some control. For a second he thinks it has worked, before he feels his hands start to shake and he has to put the mug back down for fear of dropping it. He hasn’t cried since her death, but this, this is too much and he finds himself gripping the reception desk for support.

He doesn’t hear the door open behind him, nor the footsteps crossing the room. So it’s not until Jack is stood behind him, his chest against Ianto’s back that Ianto realises he’s there.

There is the overwhelming urge to apologize to Jack for letting him find him like this, for being so unprofessional, for everything, but nothing will come out and he continues to cling to the counter for support.

“It’s all right, let go.” Jack stands behind him, a warm, solid presence, his hands moving to cover Ianto’s own.

Slowly releasing his grip Ianto feels Jack’s fingers slide between his own, curling through them to press fingertips against his palm.

“Come with me.” Jack is still holding his hand as they walk through the Hub to Jack's office, only releasing it to climb down into the room below.

Jack’s room is sparsely furnished, a bed, a wardrobe and a small desk. There are no photographs, no pictures, no real comforts. It makes Ianto wonder just what Jack is punishing himself for.

“Sit down. I’ll just be a minute,” Jack says climbing back up into the Hub, returning a few minutes later with a glass. Handing it to Ianto he says, “Here, drink this.”

In the dim light the water looks slightly fizzy, air bubbles clinging to the side of the glass. It shouldn’t mean anything, but as Ianto takes the glass from Jack he’s hit with the thought that maybe it isn’t just water.

Retcon. The more he looks at the water the more the thought cements itself. Jack couldn’t keep staff that fell apart over mugs, no matter what the sentimental connection it had to them.

It’s tempting to say nothing, to drink and have it all be over. But that would mean losing Lisa again, and he can’t do that, won’t do that, not willingly anyway. There’s no energy to fight though and Ianto looks at Jack, the fear he is feeling plainly written on his face. “Don’t make me do this, please. I’m all right, I’ll be all right.”

Jack stares at him for a moment, confused, before a look of horrified comprehension crosses his face.“You think I’d retcon you for this?” He takes the glass from Ianto and places it back on the table. “It’s just water.”

Ianto shakes his head miserably, the idea that had seem so sensible a moment before now seeming ridiculous. “I’m sorry, it was stupid. I shouldn’t have…” He’s not even sure what it is that he shouldn’t have done, it all seems to blur into one. He feels wretched, he’d been so sure, it had, for a few short seconds made complete sense. Maybe that what you get for only having three hours sleep, he wonders as he rubs a hand across his eyes.

“Don’t, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.” Jack sits down next to Ianto. “I thought fixing the mug would…” He stops and shakes his head. “I don’t know, I didn’t think it would upset you.”

“It’s not that. It’s not because you fixed it.” It’s one of the few kindnesses that anybody has shown him recently, and he is grateful, he really is, but now, today it’s all too much.

“Then why?”

“It’s just that it would have been Lisa’s birthday yesterday.” Ianto smiles sadly. “We should have been going to Spain on holiday. She’d wanted to go trekking in the Pyrenees, she loved being outdoors, the sunshine.” The smile wavers, his voice catching. “She hated the basement, the dark, the cold. I kept her there, I said I’d make her well again, I didn’t.” He turns to Jack, his eyes almost overflowing with unshed tears.

“She asked me to kill her. She begged me so many times in those first few of months. She said it was getting inside her head, making her think things. She was in so much pain, Jack, I didn’t think she meant it, not like that. Then she stopped asking and I thought she was getting better.”

“She wasn’t though, was she? She was gone, she’d become one of those things and it’s all my fault, I should have listened to her, I couldn’t do it, I loved her, I couldn’t let her go. I loved her and I put her through months hell and it was all for nothing.” It’s angry and tearful and Ianto shuts his eyes trying to ward off any further memories.

Jack doesn’t interrupt, he doesn’t even move until Ianto finishes speaking. Then slowly he wraps an arm around Ianto’s waist, holding him close.

It feels good to have somebody hold him, it’s been too long since anybody did this for him and Ianto leans in to Jack, feeling his warmth, his strength. Resting his head against Jack’s shoulder Ianto thinks that maybe if he stays right there, if he doesn’t move, if he doesn’t think, then maybe, just maybe he’ll be all right.

Jack’s leg is pressed against his, an arm around his waist, a hand slowly stroking his back and hair.

After so long without any real physical human contact, Ianto can feel his body react. Embarrassed, he grabs a pillow, pulling it onto his lap, and folds his hands on top of it.

“I don’t think that’s going to help.” Jack’s tone is gentle, understanding.

“Sorry.” Ianto can feel his face reddening still further, as he thinks, haven’t I been humiliated enough for one day without this?

“It’s nothing to be sorry about.” Jack lifts the pillow. “When did you last…” Jack trails off seeing Ianto expression.

“I don’t know, a long time. I’ve not felt like it. I should go.” Ianto wonders if it’s possible for a person to die of sheer embarrassment.

Jack’s hand has moved to rest lightly on Ianto’s crotch, thumb gently stroking the bulge growing there. “How about I to see to it for you?”

Too surprised to say anything Ianto stares at him. It’s not a shock that Jack is interested in him, the comments that Jack has made to and about him since his first day have left him in no doubt about that.

“Do you want this?” Jack asks, his thumb rubbing harder and faster.

“I don’t know.” Ianto find himself leaning into the touch. It’s been so long since anybody had shown him this sort of attention his body can’t help but react. He’s sure this counts as inappropriate behaviour, but he can’t find it in himself to complain, or to ask him to stop, not when Jack is making him feel… Actually he’s not sure what he feels, but he knows he feels something, and after weeks, months of seemingly endless numbness, feeling anything at all seems a minor miracle.

“I’ll stop if you tell me to.”

Ianto shakes his head, he knows there are so many reasons why this is a terrible idea, why he’ll probably hate himself for it later, for wanting this, maybe even for needing this, for being weak.

Jack looks at him questioningly, his hand falling still. “Ianto?”

“Don’t stop.”

“It’s okay.” Jack’s hands make short work of Ianto’s belt and flies. “I won’t hurt you.”

Moving to kneel on the floor between Ianto’s legs Jack pushes down Ianto’s trousers and boxers just enough to allow himself access.

It isn’t long before Ianto feels his body tighten telling him he is close. “Jack, I…” Ianto’s dimly aware that he should let Jack know, give him a choice about how to finish.

To Ianto’s surprise Jack makes no move to pull back, or finish with his hands. Instead he leans forwards, steadying himself with one hand against Ianto’s hip and he takes Ianto deeper into his throat.

A few moments later it’s over. He feels boneless and a little shaky, but in a good way, a way he hasn’t felt in a long while and he has to smile.

Still kneeling on the floor, Jack smiles back at him, a hand stroking Ianto’s thigh.

Ianto looks at Jack with an expression that he realises must look slightly dopey, given his current state. “Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say. What do you say to your boss when he’s just sucked you off?

“What about you? Should I…” Ianto is suddenly nervous, tension flooding back in. He has no idea what Jack wants out of this and Ianto’s sure he must want something. Experience has taught him that nobody ever gives you something for nothing; people just aren’t like that, or at least none of the ones that he’s ever met.

“No, I’m good. Anyway you’re not ready for anything more, not right now.” Jack refastens Ianto's trousers and belt with the same care he’d shown removing them and then sits back down beside him.

Ianto is unsure whether to be relieved, disappointed or just plain annoyed at the fact Jack seems to think that he has the right to decide what he is and isn’t ready for. He is tempted to tell Jack that he certainly isn’t the first guy to have sucked him off and that he’s got more experience than Jack gives him credit for.

“So what do you want?” It’s a little harsher than Ianto intends, but Jack doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does he doesn’t acknowledge it, as he just smiles again and places a hand on Ianto’s leg.

“What I want is for you to take the rest of the day off. Go home, have a proper meal and get some sleep. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how tired you’ve been looking.” Jack gently squeezes Ianto’s thigh. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

“Why what’s happening?” It all seems a little surreal, disjointed and Ianto wonders if he’s going to wake up and find it’s all be a dream, a hallucination brought about by exhaustion and his own bleak state of mind.

“We're all going camping. People have been going missing up near Brecon, I thought it might be handy to have a Welsh speaker along.”

"You want me to go out in the field?" Ianto can’t keep the surprise from his voice, it’s the last thing that he’s expected Jack to suggest or to trust him to do.

“Yes. It’s time I let you be part of the team.”

* * *

It’s only when Ianto gets home that the enormity of it hits him. He sits on the sofa head in his hands, trying to fight down the panic that he can feel starting to set in.

He’s had sex with his boss. Had sex with the man who killed, if not Lisa, then at least the body that used to be hers. Had sex with the man who had threatened to kill him, the same man that he had said he would see suffer and die. Ianto thinks that he should probably feel disgusted at what happened, either with himself for betraying Lisa’s memory, or maybe at Jack for taking advantage of the fact that he hadn't exactly been in the best frame of mind at the time.

But all he can think of is the warmth and safety of Jack's arms, of Jack’s hands holding his, of the knowledge that Jack has already forgiven him, when he still can’t forgive himself.

Closing his eyes Ianto tries to make sense of it. But there is no sense to it, no logic, nothing that he can understand. It’s all so screwed up he doesn’t even know where to begin.

Maybe tomorrow when he’s out of the Hub, he reasons, once he's away from the claustrophobic insanity of Torchwood he’ll be able to think more clearly, find a few minutes when he can speak to Jack alone and try to sort out just what he’s feeling.

Maybe a nice trip to the countryside is just what he needs.


End file.
